The Final Piece
by scarylolita
Summary: Clyde's entire life revolves around his best friend, but things take a turn when he gets back together with his ex-girlfriend. Slash.


**South Park © Matt &amp; Trey.**

**Yeah, I know I write about BPD a lot but I was diagnosed with it recently so I'll probably write about it lots more yet haha.**

**Disclaimer: Red and Craig aren't related in this. **

* * *

**January.**

Evidently, Craig lost his pants somewhere along the way upstairs. I bend him over the mattress briskly once we reach his bedroom.

Thank God his parents are out for the night.

Face first into the pillows, Craig arches his back and allows me to take control. He lets out a shuddery breath when he feels my sticky fingers on his backside. "Good?" I ask him.

"Mm…" he mumbles, turning his head to the side and pressing his cheek against the pillow. "Just do it already…"

"Soon," I say. I like this part too much to rush it. This position suits Craig best – face down, back arched and ass high in the air. Like this, he's vulnerable and exposed and I am the only one who gets to see these parts of my stoic best friend.

Craig twitches and lets out breathy, impatient moans. When the fingers are gone, I press myself against him. Craig presses back, exhibiting further impatience.

We've been fucking since we were fourteen. It started the way these things usually start. I just got dumped by Bebe and Craig invited me over for the night. We stole some liquor from his parents and we got drunk in his basement. Since it was late, there were some adult programs on the television. We watched and drank and then Craig turned to me and asked, "_Wanna have sex with me_?" He had a drunken flush and all I could respond with was, "_Hell yeah_," because I was horny and wasted and there was porn on the TV. So, we got naked and I did him from behind as we both faced the television. Craig whined and moaned the entire time, but I think it's because I was hurting him. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. At that point, I never did it with a guy. When it was over, he confessed to being a virgin. It surprised me. I took my best bud's virginity. It was the last thing I expected to do when Craig invited me over. We were weird about it in the morning, but eventually it happened again and again and it got less weird. At that point I had already slept with Bebe. I never imagined I'd do it with a guy, but Craig knows how to turn my crank. I can't complain. I get sex daily. Sure, it's with a dude, but it's still sex.

"Ahhh… _hnn_…!" Craig sounds delirious. He's always so loud. Even if I wanted to pretend he was someone else, it'd be virtually impossible.

I remove a hand from Craig's hips and deliver a hard smack to his ass. "Don't scream," I warn, halting my movements. "My dad can hear us."

"I c-can't…" Craig breathes, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving his face into it.

"He already think you're loose," I mutter.

"Then stop bringing me here if it bothers you so damn much," Craig says, trying to keep his voice even.

"I like fucking you," I confess. "I like having you here."

"Romance me with small talk," Craig snorts. "Just shut up and finish what you started." With a smirk, I bend down, leaning over Craig's back and whispering dirty things into his ear. He shudders and tightens his ass around my cock. "Don't _tease_."

I grab his hips again and fuck him hard because when I don't he begs for it. Then again, sometimes it's more fun that way.

Craig is attractive without trying. He comes to school wearing his pajama pants tucked into his boots and ugly t-shirts under worn out sweaters. He's slim and pale with dark hair and blue eyes. He has nice lips and they look especially nice around my dick. Bebe jokes around and calls them blowjob lips, but she has no fucking idea. There's a ring in his septum and the word TOMORROW tattooed on his left forearm. I once asked him what it meant and he said it was a reminder. That's the only answer I got, but I think I can piece it together in my head. It's more than a reminder. For Craig, tomorrow is always a goal.

When it's over, we lie side by side with just our shoulders touching. I turn my head and glance at him. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted as quiet breaths escape. I watch his chest rise and fall for a few minutes and we're both silent.

Yeah, he's pretty. Pretty like a girl. Pretty like a guy. I don't know, he's just pretty. I'd be a moron to deny it because everyone seems to think so. He could probably get anyone he wanted, so I guess it means something that he sleeps around with me. Still, we don't kiss much. It's usually just the touching of our lower regions. We didn't kiss the first time we fucked. We didn't kiss the second or third time, either. The first time we kissed was after we had a fight. We both simmered and Craig grabbed my face, planting one on my mouth. "_We're okay_ _now_," he said decidedly and then he went home. That was that. I had no say in the matter. I guess it's somewhat of a tradition now. We fight and then we kiss to make up.

"Me and Bebe are talking about getting back together," I decide to tell him. I shouldn't put it off.

Craig opens his eyes, wearing a look of disbelief. "And you waited to tell me after we fucked why?" he snaps, sitting up and staring down at me. "Because you wanted a convenient lay before you dropped the bomb? You _knew_ I'd go home if you said it beforehand, didn't you?"

I let out a sigh, perching myself up on my elbows. I knew he'd get mad. Either way he'd get mad… but I guess he's right in the end. It was a dick move on my part. "Sorry," I tell him, trying to sound sincere.

He scoffs, getting out of bed and putting his clothes back on quickly. I click my tongue and grab my sweatpants, throwing them on before following after him.

"Craig," I say his name. "Come on, don't run off. Talk to me." I grab his shoulders, forcing him to stop. I don't even know why he's angry.

With a sharp sigh, he turns around and stares at me. "You didn't tell her about us, did you?"

"No," I promise. "I didn't tell anyone, you know that. We both agreed this would be a secret."

"Good…" he murmurs.

"Look," I sigh, "I'm sorry. I should have mentioned this earlier."

"It's fine, Clyde," he says mechanically. It's not a genuine sentiment. He's only saying it because he thinks he should. The words come out forced. "I'm going to see my dealer. I'll see you later."

With that, he's gone.

* * *

**Febuary.**

Craig turned seventeen late last month. Sometimes I forget he's older than me. We didn't do much. We passed around some rum and then had really sloppy, drunken sex. It was actually kind of gross. Craig threw up as soon as we finished.

"Do I still turn you on?" he asked as he wiped the barf off his chin.

All I could do was laugh and say, "Now more than ever."

* * *

**March.**

People tiptoe around Craig because they know if they say the wrong thing it'll flip a switch in his head. He won't tell you what he wants, but he'll still get mad when you don't understand him. He doesn't get mad at me often because I can usually read him pretty well, but when he does it can get scary. There's definitive different between Craig's frustration and his anger. When he's frustrated, there is still room for reason. When he's angry, there is no room for reason. He can no longer calm himself down and nothing you say will do any good. He'll analyze your words until they mean something you never even intended.

Sometimes he _jokes_ around and says scary shit. "I'm going to kill myself before I'm thirty," he'll say, but I don't want him to because he's my best friend and I don't want to live without him.

He says he tried cutting but it didn't satisfy him that much. He said the feeling was too temporary, especially compared to other things. Sometimes I still notice the faint scars on his wrists, but I never point them out. Now he just sticks to drugs and drinking. I don't really know which is worse. They're all bad habits.

He has a poor sense of identity and a poor sense of self. Sometimes, he is cold and stoic and stern. Other times, he is childish and sweet and easily pleased. He goes back and forth. There are days I watch him change before my very eyes. It feels surreal.

Sometimes he can be so fucking understanding and kind and collected. There are times he's the one who holds me together. Whenever I'm sad, he's the first person to make me feel better. When my mom died he just held me and let me sob like a baby for hours. He didn't say anything about it. He didn't laugh. He didn't leave. He didn't tell me to stop. He just stayed quiet and he listened when I spoke. With us, it's give and take. I think that's the way it ought to be.

At school the following Monday, Craig sits down next to me and lets out a long sigh. "What's up?" I ask him expectantly.

"My drug dealer tried to pull the moves on me," he admits under his breath.

I wince at that. Craig's dealer is a balding forty-year-old with a beer gut and a bad twang. The most disgusting part is that he only deals to kids. He's the local favorite of all the young town junkies because he's always willing to strike a deal if they're low on cash. It's' sad because so many kids around here are hooked on drugs and desperate for more. They'll do anything.

"Drug dealers are the worst kind of scum," I tell him. I'm not surprised his drug dealer tried to feel him up. It was bound to happen eventually, sad to say.

"I know," he admits. "I told him to fuck off then I ran away… He'll probably make me lick his nut sack before letting me buy from him again."

"Gross!" I exclaim, trying to rid my mind of the repulsive images pervading.

The teacher walks in a moment later and hushes the class. As she drones on, I let my mind wander. I do pretty badly in school. So does Craig, but he's so fucking smart. He's just lazy. He reads a lot. He likes shit like JD Salinger and Mark Twain. He's also a fan of the literary legacies of the beatnik era, but he doesn't get pretentious about it. As long as it has nothing to do with school, Craig will eat up any book you put in front of him.

After class, he invites me over. Naturally, I accept the offer and we get in my beat up car. This car has witnessed a lot so far and I've only had it for a few months. I've fucked Craig in many awkward, cramped positions in this car. A few months ago Craig got really drunk and sat on the gear shift. Ironically, my car broke down the next day. I guess it didn't appreciate Craig's advances.

When we arrive at the Tucker residence, we do homework. Well, we _try_. Craig has virtually no focus when it comes to school. We sit across from each other in the kitchen and open up our laptops.

"Come on," I urge. "If you fail anymore classes your mom is gonna kill you."

He groans loudly, but doesn't respond.

Last year he failed gym. Yes, gym. I don't really get how someone could fail a class like gym, but Craig managed to do it. I guess that in itself is somehow impressive. Now he has to take it again this year. That means his workload is heavier since he's taking more classes than everyone else.

"I still don't get how you failed fucking gym class," I mutter, voicing my thoughts on the subject. "I mean… You're in good shape."

Craig shrugs, lying his head down on the table and closing his eyes. "I'm lazy. I don't like organized sports. I don't like playing with others. I'm not good at it. Stan Marsh once threw a ball and it hit me in the face so I punched him. I knew it was an accident, but it pissed me off so much. I thought I was going to start fucking crying on the spot, but I didn't want to do that in front of a bunch of kids who would just rip on me for it. So, I punched him instead. I had to let it out somehow. Imagine my joy when the moronic gym teacher announced we'd be playing dodgeball. I fucking hate that fucking game. I had, like, a bitch fit."

"Oh," I state. "You never told me about any of that…"

"Because it doesn't really matter," he responds, speaking lazily. "I'm doing okay in all my courses this year."

"What about in general?" I decide to change the subject. "School aside, how are you doing?

He lifts his head and stares at me. "I'm the way I always am," he says.

"Lots of mood swings?" I ask.

"Lots of mood swings," he confirms. "When I'm low, I'm unbelievably low. When I'm high, I'm unbelievably high. The word euphoria comes to mind. I feel like I'm constantly alternating between this and that and all these other ridiculous emotions. It's never ending and I'm always too much of everything. I'm mad. I'm jealous. I'm sad. I'm disgusted. I'm tired. I'm always trying to control myself when I get angry and depressed. I lash out at myself or at other people. It's hard, though… So, I try to remove myself from situations that I know are gonna make me flip out or go catatonic. I try to remind myself that I'm being stupid and oversensitive. Then two seconds later it all melts away and I'm fucking fine again. It's like I just can't make up my god damn mind so I feel everything humanly possible in the span of a day."

"You're too hard on yourself," I tell him when he's finished venting. "Just because what you feel is different than what another person might feel it doesn't mean it isn't valid and meaningful."

"Aw," he coos in a voice that's dripping with sarcasm. "Clyde, you always know what to say to put a smile on this ol' face." He reaches across the table and pinches my cheek.

I knock his hand away and roll my eyes. "I'm serious, dude."

He smiles a small smile. "I know you are… and I'm grateful. You get me. Most people don't."

"You're my best friend," is all I say I response.

For the longest time I assumed Craig was just flighty with his emotions. Things got kind of bad last year. His mood swings were unsettling. I distinctly remember him crying because he dropped a plastic cup. He would get upset over a lot of seemingly small things. It's like he'd just shut down. Eventually his parents caught on and forced him to see a doctor. As soon as Craig said it was something called borderline personality disorder, I decided to learn all I could about it.

"Do I turn you on?" Craig asks out of the blue.

"Yeah," I tell him. "If you didn't I wouldn't fuck you."

"So, you admit you like fucking me?" Craig's eyes narrow and he squints at me. "Then how the fuck can you still insist that you're straight?"

Ah, caught in my own trap.

"Well…" I pause and shrug. "I guess I like guys sexually, but I like girls romantically _and_ sexually?"

"So, you're sexually attracted to me?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But how do you know you don't like guys romantically, too?" he questions me further. "You've never dated a guy."

I shrug again. "I don't know. I guess I don't know for sure."

"Oh," is all Craig responds with.

Then something occurs to me. "Hey… What about you? You like girls, right?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Anyone in particular?" I pry.

"No." His tone is sharp. He's getting moody. End of conversation.

* * *

**April. **

Craig's dealer forgave him… unfortunately.

We're currently in the bathroom of some crusty abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Some people are throwing a party and this is where Craig's dealer is going to be tonight.

"Is this a flophouse?" I ask.

"Sh, Clyde," Craig hushes me. He stumbles slightly, making me wonder if he had a few drinks beforehand.

I don't say anything else. I'm uncomfortable. This isn't my scene. I'm not used to parties like this. I'm not used to people like this, either. There are some pretty sketchy looking characters running around here.

Eventually, Craig's dealer shows up. Craig lets out an impatient sigh when he spots the guy. "Finally," he snaps.

This is the first time I've seen a drug deal up close. Usually I just wait in the car while Craig does his thing. It's not really as scandalous and secretive as I thought it would be.

After that, Craig pockets the powder and grabs my arm. We walk down the narrow hallway and into a large, open space. It's dark and it smells like smoke. I can't help but wonder how often Craig finds himself in places like this. I don't like to picture him here alone.

Some guy approaches Craig and leans forward, whispering something I don't quite catch. A split second later, Craig's expression twists into a grimace. "I'm drunk, not blind!" he snaps, pushing the guy away. Unfortunately, the old fart doesn't seem to like that. He grabs a fistful of Craig's hair and slams him to the floor before walking off. Craig's attitude always gets him in trouble.

With a sigh, I help him up. "You okay?"

"No," he mutters, rubbing his head. "Ow…"

"Dudes can be scary," I tell him. "You shouldn't mouth off."

"So, what, it's my fault?" he asks defensively.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," I groan. He always jumps to conclusions. "You know that's not what I'm saying. I just mean when you're out you need to be careful – especially when you're at a place like this. Christ."

"Come on," he murmurs, nodding for me to follow him. "Let's go."

And with that, we leave, entering the frigid air outside. Silently we walk back to my house and as soon as we're inside, we kick off our shoes and hang up our coats. Upstairs, Craig turns into the bathroom and takes his debit card out of his wallet.

"Tsk…" I click my tongue at him. "Why do you have to do this shit in front of me?"

"Why do you care?" he retorts before doing a line.

"Because I don't like seeing you like this," I tell him. "It doesn't suit you."

He only sighs, sniffling and wiping his nose before pocketing the rest of the drugs.

"How did you get your dealer to forgive you?" I ask him, somewhat afraid to find out.

Craig frowns, looking somewhat melancholic. "I sent him a picture of me."

I feel an unpleasant sensation in my gut. "A picture…?" I question slowly and he nods his head. "Craig, what _kind_ of picture was it?"

"You know," he murmurs.

I click my tongue in disgust. "You're _so_ much better than this!"

He just shrugs. "I don't feel it."

I soften, throwing an arm around him. We walk into my room and he doesn't try to jump me. He knows I won't touch him like this. That's our rule. After the first time, I decided that we should probably try to make these sober experiences. It's better when he's in his right mind. Sometimes he gets drunk and tries things, but I don't relent unless I'm just as drunk.

We sit on the edge of my bed and he groans, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I'm such a high maintenance friend."

I chuckle at that. "It's okay. I can be like that, too."

He glances at me and sighs. "Clyde, you're supposed to deny it and say, 'No, don't worry, Craig. You're not high maintenance.'"

I just smile at him. "Sorry, dude."

He smiles back faintly. "It's okay."

* * *

**May. **

I invite myself over to Craig's house. Letting myself in, I go straight upstairs and into his room. I spot him standing in front of the mirror hanging on his closet door. He's staring at himself, looking like he's getting lost in his own reflection. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a baggy shirt that is sliding off his shoulder. Then I realize it's my shirt he's wearing.

"Craig…?" I say his name in a questioning voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says sounds flatter than usual. He's probably disassociating. His voice always gets a certain way when it's happening. "Not now."

I am cautious as I move forward. I grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at me. His eyes are glazed over. "Hey," I say, snapping my fingers. "Where are you right now, Craig?"

"My room," he states.

"Right, and who is here with you?"

"You are…"

"Right," I say again. "And where's Stripe?"

"On my dresser…"

"Right," I say for a third time. "Wanna play with him?"

Craig doesn't respond, so I move towards the rodent's cage and open it. I stick my hand inside the cage and let him crawl into my palm before I lift him out.

"Look," I say.

Craig cups his palms and I put Stripe in his hands. We move onto his bed and I continue asking Craig questions, trying to keep him grounded and aware of exactly where he is. I feel like I'm talking for hours, but he finally starts to come out of it. He rubs his hands up and his face before curling his fingers in his hair. He tightens his grip and lets out a frustrated moan.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I hate _feeling_ this way," he bites out wetly. He lies down and starts kicking his legs around like a child having a tantrum.

"Craig, what are you doing?" I ask.

He sits up and gives me a weak shove. "Well, I'm _sorry_!" he spits out. "I'm sorry I get difficult and I'm sorry I get upset! I'm sorry it annoys you, but it's not going to change and it's especially not going to get better over night!"

"Craig –" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Is that what you want to hear?" he asks in a quieter voice. "Well, there you have it." He lies back down, pushing his face into my lap. I stare down at him, touching his hair.

"I know," I tell him. "You don't have to be sorry. You don't annoy me."

With that, I hear the first sob. It's quiet but gut-wrenching. He hasn't cried in a while. He probably needs this. So, I stay silent and I continue playing with his hair as he lets it all out.

* * *

**June. **

Craig graduates grade eleven with straight C's. I don't do much better, so I can't chastise him.

It happens on the first day of summer break. Bebe invites me over. She drops the hint by saying, "My parents are out."

We end up sleeping together and I finally get what I've been wanting. It feels different. I haven't touched a girl in years. I guess I got used to the feel of Craig. I know it's wrong, but I can't help but compare them. Sex with Bebe feels the way it goes in movies. Sex with Craig is so much different than that. It's so much more.

Now I feel conflicted.

* * *

**July. **

I invite myself over to Craig's and let myself in, just like always. I find him upstairs. His blinds are closed and the room is dark. He's lying in the center of his bed, looking half asleep.

"Clyde?" he murmurs groggily, sitting up. I immediately notice the t-shirt he's wearing.

"Hey," I whisper, sitting with him. "Is that my shirt?"

"I guess I felt alone," he admits, staring down at it. "The shirt… you left it here and it smelled like you, so I put it on."

"Oh," I say softly. "Well, I'm here now."

"Yeah, you are," he responds quietly before lying back down. I decide to lie with him and the two of us are quiet.

He does stuff like this a lot. Sometimes I want to ask him if he has feelings for me, but he'd just throw it in my face. He'd manage to avoid the question while informing me that not everything in the world is about me. I guess I'd sound pretty vain if I said it out loud.

He got angry when I told him about Bebe. I knew he would. He didn't show it, he repressed it… but I could still tell he was ready to burst.

* * *

**August. **

Craig has been spending most days with Red. I didn't even think they were friends anymore. They had a fight last year. Naturally. I don't even remember how it happened. It was sudden and then they were both drunk and emotional and screaming. "I forgave her," Craig explained simply. "To be honest, I don't remember what we were even fighting about."

Like me and Craig, Red and Craig also have a history. It's not sexual, but it's long. Red has known Craig for even longer than I have. I guess that has to mean something.

* * *

**September. **

Summer sucked and school is back in session. I feel like I neglected my friendships for most of the break in favor of my girlfriend.

"How's Bebe?" Craig asks as he sits down next to me in homeroom.

"Good," I say.

We've been dating for a month. That means I haven't touched Craig. We haven't mentioned it, but for some reason I miss it. I can't help but wonder if he misses it, too.

"So, wanna do something after school?" I proposition.

"Can't," he says. "I'm hanging out with Rebecca."

I force a smile. "I swear, you're the only person in the world who calls her that."

And this is how it's been.

* * *

**October. **

Things with Bebe are lackluster and all I can think about is Craig and Red. God! Why does it always have to happen like this? Why am I always learning things the hard way?

Last week, Red came up to me and started telling me about her day with Craig. Towards the end, the story took a dangerous turn. "I ended up staying over at his house for the night," she confessed. "I woke up with his morning wood pressing into my butt. To try and make things less awkward, I made a joke. I guess he didn't think it was funny. I told him he should go take care of it. I thought he was going to go to the bathroom, but he didn't! I don't know what came over him, but he just whipped it out and showed me! So, naturally, I just kind of giggled nervously and he started whacking off in front of me."

Part of me was surprised, but the other part of me wasn't. Part of me was also jealous, which pissed me off. I thought I was the only one Craig jerked off in front of.

"Then what happened?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I just watched him. I was kind of stunned. I didn't want to run away and make things weird, y'know? I thought that if I didn't mind seeing it and he didn't mind doing it, then it was fine. So, after a few minutes, lifted up his shirt and came on his stomach. When he was done he just looked at me and said, 'See, no big deal.' I was still kind of surprised, though."

"Yeah, no shit," I snorted.

"Man," she whined. "I get so turned on when I think about it. My vagina was a fountain when I left his house."

I choked back a laugh. "Tell him you like him," I suggested. I was trying to be a good friend. I didn't want to act like an asshole because I knew Red wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Should I?" she wondered.

"Yeah, go for it," I told her. "You're beautiful, you're nice, you'd treat Craig well and he'd do the same to you."

"We've been friends for so long…" she reasoned thoughtfully. "I don't want to ruin it. Plus, I've never dated a guy like Craig before."

"What do you mean?"

"He's borderline, right?" she asked before adding, "I don't want to somehow make him feel worse. I'm confrontational. I can be a huge bitch at times. I have no filters and sometimes I say stupid things."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It'll be worse if you're constantly trying to censor yourself. He'll know and he'll hate it. He'll call you out on it."

I hope that she took what I said to heart. I hope she can make Craig happy. I hope Craig can make her happy, too. That's all that really matters in the end, right? If Craig is happy, then I can be happy. I saw them holding hands the other day, but I Craig hasn't said anything about it to me yet. He's probably waiting for me to ask.

I let things sit for the week, but when I see Craig saunter into class I decide to question him about it.

"So… you and Red?" I ask.

"Apparently. It's nothing concrete but…" he trails off and shrugs.

"Do you like her?"

"I don't know."

"What's not to know?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"It's complicated," he says vaguely.

"Not really…" I say. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? Because I really don't think you do."

He sighs loudly, giving me an especially dull look. Relenting, he shrugs and says, "I let her fuck me in the ass. She was pretty into it."

"Huh…" I respond with a long nod. "Well… that's, um, cool."

Part of me wonders if he's trying to get a rise out of me. Well, he's definitely succeeding, but I'm not going to let it show.

* * *

**November. **

Things with Bebe aren't going the way they should be. She seems to feel it, too. "I guess this was stupid," she says with a laugh. "We can't keep trying to force it, huh? Things aren't going to be the way they were when we were younger if we're just not into it."

We're at her house and I know we're about to break up. Somehow, I'm not sad about it.

"Yeah," I agree forlornly.

It's stupid. It's so fucking stupid. You don't really realize what you have until you don't have it anymore. Maybe that's not how it was with me and Bebe, but instead it was me and Craig. The feelings I have for him really crept up on me. I never even saw it coming. I didn't take the feelings for what they were. I pushed them aside, insisting they were something else entirely until I couldn't anymore. I guess he's the one that matters most. Now he has Red.

"I think I'm in love with someone else," I tell Bebe. She deserves to know.

She nods her head slowly and then asks, "Who?"

"Craig," I say with a bitter laugh.

She smiles softly. "Yeah, I can see it. You guys are inseparable."

I shrug and say, "We used to be."

I guess I'm the jealous one now. I get jealous when I think about Craig and when I think about him fucking Red and Red fucking him. It's an unpleasant feeling.

"Tell him," Bebe says.

"He's with Red," I remind her.

She shrugs and insists, "Still, you have to tell him. Don't wait for him to break things off with her. Just do it."

"You're the best," I tell her sincerely, wrapping my arms around her.

"I know," she says with a laugh, patting my back. "Now go do your thing."

With another smile, I'm gone. It's snowing out and the snow is piling high. I make my way through it and trek to Craig's house.

I always have to learn things the hardest way possible. It fucking sucks.

When I reach his driveway I decide to knock this time. Ruby lets me in and then whispers, "Craig is in a bad mood."

"Why?" I whisper back, taking off my shoes and jacket.

She shrugs and then admits, "Red was here earlier..."

I make an 'o' with my mouth and nod my understanding. They probably had a fight. Trouble in paradise. Well, hopefully he isn't upset about it.

Without another word, I make my way past her and go upstairs. I knock on Craig's closed door before opening it and inviting myself in. "Hey," I greet him.

His room is dark and he's lying in bed looking kind of miserable. At the sound of my voice, he rolls over and eyes me from where he's lying. "Hey," he echoes. "Why're you here?"

I shrug before admitting, "Bebe broke up with me. Things just weren't working out. It all felt too forced."

"That's a funny coincidence," he murmurs. "Red just broke up with me, too."

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

He sits up. "I guess I deserved it. I didn't really like her to begin with. I tried to, but you can't really force feelings. I just wanted to date someone because you were dating someone. I guess it made me feel lonely and then she made me feel less lonely… So, when she asked me out I said okay. It kind of fell into place. But she says I'm too moody. She apologized and then said she couldn't be with a guy who is as negative as me. I kind of expected it. I had an episode a few weeks ago and I think I really scared her. I don't want to be with someone who is scared of me, you know? I was angry for about an hour, but I kind of can't blame her."

"I'm sorry, Craig." I let out a quiet sigh and finally make my way towards the bed, sitting down with him. I lean back against the pillow and Craig leans against me.

"It makes me feel like… no one will ever want to be with me," he says wetly.

I want to tell him that it isn't true because I want to be with him, but the words don't come out. Instead, I put my arm around him and say, "So… it's just us again."

"The way it should be," he responds.

"Yeah," I agree.

* * *

**December. **

I haven't told him how I feel yet, but everything has fallen back into place. Everything really is the way it should be. Me and Craig are sleeping together again and it feels right. We haven't really spoken about it in detail yet, but somehow things are different.

It's winter break. Christmas is approaching. I'll be spending it with the Tucker family. My dad is going to be away on a business trip. I think that's just his way of saying he doesn't want to spend the holiday with me.

With my overnight bag packed, I make my way over. The snow is even heavier and the plows haven't quite made it through town yet.

When I arrive at his door, his parents let me in with smiles. For once, Craig isn't locked away in his room. Instead, I see him sitting with Ruby in front of the television. I kick off my boots and hang up my jacket as Craig stands. He gestures towards my bag and says, "Let's go upstairs. You can put your stuff in my room."

I nod and the two of us head for the stairs.

"Be good!" his parents warn us.

Craig stifles a smile before glancing at me. "I think they know we hook up," he whispers.

"Oh," I say with a nervous laugh.

We move into his room and I drop my bag on the floor. Craig moves towards his closet and tosses me two t-shirts. "These are yours," he says. "You kept leaving them here."

"That's all right," I tell him. "You like wearing them, don't you?"

He smiles a small smile before admitting, "Yeah, I do."

"Then I'll keep 'em here for now," I say.

"Okay." He looks pleased as he puts them back. After that, he flops onto his bed. I flop down next to him and we're both quiet for a few minutes.

Part of me wants to say it now, but I'm still searching for the right moment and the right way to bring it up. Then again, maybe there isn't a right way to go about this. Maybe I should stop thinking about it and just do it.

"Craig?" I say his name in a questioning tone.

"Mm?" he answers, shifting closer. He puts an arm over my chest and tosses one of his legs over mine.

"Uh, so how are you?" I ask, chickening out.

"Fine," he says unceremoniously. "I'm in a good mood lately."

"I'm glad," I tell him.

"How about you?"

"I'm good, too," I say.

"Good…" he murmurs. "So, was that it? You just wanted to ask how I was doing? Something is on your mind lately. I can tell."

"How?" I wonder.

"I just can," he says. "It's just like the way you can always tell when I'm about to lose my shit. I guess we can just read each other well enough by now."

"Hm," I muse. I guess he's right about that. It's kind of nice to know that he pays as much attention to me as I do to him.

He pauses, perching himself up and staring down at me. "You know, I never used to care for brown eyes," he admits. "They're common and a lot of people with brown eyes wish they had blue or green. I mean… people never romanticize brown eyes… so I never really considered them. That changed when I saw yours. I thought they were the nicest. I still do."

I smile up at him. "That's really nice, Craig."

A second later he bends down slowly and I close my eyes when I feel his lips against mine. I open my mouth and we kiss in a way we've never kissed before.

"Let's not see other people," he decides when we break apart. "We tried. It didn't work out."

"Yeah," I agree softly. I reach a hand up and brush my knuckles across his cheek. "That's what I've been thinking."

"I know," he says. "That's why I decided to say it first. You were being too shy."

I chuckle sheepishly, unable to deny it. "Well… I'll be the first to say I love you."

He looks surprised. "You love me?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "I love you."

When the stunned expression passes, he smiles. "Good," he says with finality. "I love you, too. You're strong and kind and you make me feel safe and wanted. You make me feel good and I want to make you feel good, too. Not just in bed, but in all ways."

"You already do," I promise him. "You always have."

So, this is how it happens. This is the final piece.

I love him. I always love him, even when there are times he doesn't love himself. I love his eyes. I love his hair. I love his cheeks and his lips and his chin. I love the way his eyes squint when he laughs. I love the sound of it. I love the dimples when he smiles. I love his shoulders and his back and his stomach. I love his knees and his elbows and his hands. I love being near him. I love touching him. I love the simple touches and the not so simple touches. I love the way he says my name. I love the way he looks when he's content. I love the deep, nasally tone of his voice. I love the way he throws around his hands when he talks about something he thinks is special. I love his moans and the feel of his skin. I love when he gets excited over seemingly small things. I love seeing him with his nose in a book. I feel like I could go on forever talking about all the things I love about Craig Tucker. I love him and I can't wait to show him how much.

**Fin.**


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